


Loved

by WroughtBetwixt



Series: JohnWard Prompts [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Drunken Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, One Shot, Pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Teen Grant, Underage Drinking, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John realized he had a problem when he came back to the small apartment, and found four empty beer cans scattered around the kitchen floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loved

John realized he had a problem when he came back to the small apartment, and found four empty beer cans scattered around the kitchen floor. Also on the kitchen floor was Grant, curled around a wastebasket, looking pale and miserable. Drunk, and sick. Definitely not a good sign. A plastered sixteen year old, with Grant’s history...  
  
“Kid?” John inquired quietly. “You okay?”  
  
“Leave me alone,” Grant snarled, curling up into a tighter ball around the bin. He hiccuped, then shivered. “Just go away.”  
  
For a long time, John said nothing. Setting the bag of groceries on the counter, he let out a quiet sigh, grabbing a dishcloth and running it under the cold water. He squeezed out the excess and walked back to Grant, slowly sinking onto the floor next to the teenager. At first, Grant pulled back, staring at John with wide, glassy eyes. John held up his hands, a calming gesture; after a few moments, Grant squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered. Moving to the spot next to Grant, John used the cool rag to dab away the sweat forming on Grant’s skin. Grant tensed, then leaned into the touch, eyes still closed. Every so often, Grant would wrench away, heaving into the bin; each time, he leaned closer to John, eventually ending up with his cheek on John’s shoulder. John let him.  
  
After some time had passed without further incident, John finally spoke, trying to keep his voice gentle. “This isn’t why I busted you out of that tin can, Ward. You can’t do this to yourself.”   
  
“Th’fuck you bothering?” Grant replied, slurring. “Why?”  
  
“Because I believe in you. I have since the moment we met.”  
  
Grant looked up at him; there was suspicion there, and some sort of hurt that John couldn’t even begin to guess at. “Well, I hope you like disappointment. S’all I am.”   
  
The answer, and the emotion in those amber eyes, hit John directly in the heart. “Grant, don’t say that.”  
  
“S’why I’m alone. S’why nobody cares. You said,” Grant halted, his voice thickening. “You said I’m just blaming...”  
  
“I was wrong,” John interrupted. He remembered what he’d said, _blaming mommy and daddy and mean older brother for your problems_ , and recognized suddenly with a dreadful pit in his stomach that maybe there was more to that than he’d known. Damn it. “I shouldn’t have said that to you, and I’m sorry. But look how far you’ve come, in just six months. I’m proud of you.”  
  
Grant searched John’s face, then ducked his head; he was trying not to cry. John knew that move all too well. Reaching out, he slid an arm around Grant’s waist, tugging just a tiny bit. Grant took the silent permission, turning into John’s shoulder and shaking as the tears began to flow. John curled his other arm around Grant as the shaking became hitched, broken sobs.   
  
“You’re _not_ alone,” he murmured into Grant’s hair, rubbing the boy’s back and holding him close. “You’re never going to be alone again.”


End file.
